Power Struggle
by Avenging Neko
Summary: What did Sir Integra truly serve to gain from feeding Seras some of her blood?


**Power Struggle**

**_AN:_**Just a little mini ficlet that I thought up last night. Enjoy. :D**  
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Seras Victoria sat at the dining table, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the enormous windows, staring moodily down into a bowl of amber soup she had begged off the kitchen staff. They'd prepared some bread and meat dishes to accompany the broth, but the smell of the cooked flesh turned her stomach and she felt another wave of displacement sweep over her as she realized that. Swallowing dryly, she picked up the spoon and slowly dipped it into the reflective pool in the white porcelain bowl, gathering a small sip in the curve of the metal utensil. Lifting it to her mouth she hesitated as that nauseas feeling returned, but with grim determination she tipped the contents onto her tongue. The instant the taste registered her eyes widened and she began to cough violently, trying to spit the traces of the soup from her mouth – that burned like sulfur and tasted of brimstone - as she threw the spoon in disgust and covered her mouth with her gloved fist.

A medical blood pack hit the table between the untouched offerings of meat and she gasped, a long denied hunger roaring between her ears. The distinctive smell of Sir Integra's cigar smoke filled her nostrils then and she wondered how she'd missed the woman's approach as she jerked her head up to stare at the imposing elder blonde.

"Why do you refuse to drink blood?" The Hellsing Heiress asked, cutting straight to the point, "You're not human anymore." The words, though spoken in a calm manner, made Seras squirm in her seat. "It's time to accept it, Seras." Sir Integra straightened from her position against the wall to approach the table, and the woman's eyes were hidden by the gleam of light across her glasses.

Seras tried to catch her (unnecessary) breath from the shock of the utter failure regarding her attempts to eat something other than the blood she was scolded for rejecting, and as the Master of her Master drew closer she straightened. "But, I…" Wide blue eyes widened further as the lady knight drew off the glove from her right hand and picked up the untouched butter knife in her left. Seras blinked a few times, uncertain as to what the statuesque blonde was doing.

There was a whistling sound and a sudden spurt of blood – she could see it so clearly, flying through the air in such perfect red spheres – and she gasped as she realized that Sir Integra had stabbed her own finger. The wound oozed droplets onto the table, and she jerked her head up to face the woman towering above her, "But Sir Integra..!"

Integra smirked, smoke wisping from the cigar betwixt her lips, and chuckled lightly. An odd light glowed in the woman's eyes as she lifted her hand, bringing it level with Seras' face. "I cut my finger, I don't want it to get infected." She purred, and Seras shivered at the tone. "Kiss it for me."

Seras gasped again, and Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing chuckled once more, staring down at her with such a … a look of expectancy. As though Seras had no choice but to obey.

A flush flared like fire on her cheeks even as the rest of the color drained from her face and a sickened queasy expression took residence there, and she quivered with revulsion. "Ugh… I just, I…"

Integra's glacial gaze narrowed, and her words came out crisply, with no room for argument. "Do it. That's an order."

Seras shook, and even the crimson glow of embarrassment began to dim as her mind and body went to war. Why? Why was everyone trying to get her to drink the blood? Couldn't they see her side? It would mean the end of something important, something she wasn't ready to sacrifice.

Integra stood there, still as stone, while garnet droplets crashed to the tabletop in near silence, staining the once white fabric with spilled life. Seras felt her stomach tighten into knots, and it felt as though her heart leapt into her throat as she gazed into the woman's face. Somehow… somehow she knew that even if the cut healed, Sir Integra would do it again, order her to drink the blood. Order her.

Soldiers followed orders, even former police girls like herself, and in this new unlife of hers… was she anything but a good little soldier? A pawn to move, until she could climb the ranks and move beyond the limitations of the ever forward march of time. Her Master had done it, he was the Hellsing's knight, maneuverable, but limited by the restraints placed upon him. Was that what she would become? … Would it be so bad?

She closed her eyes, and the war intensified. The vampiric side of her screamed for victory, lashing at her crumbling defenses. Her Master's Master gave her an order, to drink the blood; and she could not deny that the blood was given willingly, could not argue against the donors not knowing that they were feeding such an unholy creature as herself, and secretly, she could not deny she wanted it. Her humanity shoveled more dirt into the holes, trying to patch the wall, but the battle was lost, if not the war.

Resignation filled her and she made an uncomfortable noise, her lashes slowly raising to watch Integra's hand lif itself higher so the droplets fell right before her nose.

She gasped as the world faded to black around her, leaving nothing but those drips of red. Still trembling slightly, she leaned forward helplessly, her mouth opening wider and extending her tongue to catch the crimson ambrosia. A weight pressed to her tongue and she was lost in a sea of scarlet.

Faintly, in the back of her mind, she could feel a strange stirring, a… connection to the Hellsing Heiress, she could feel her thoughts, taste her emotions. Biting back a moan, she lapped languidly at the slowly sealing cut, wrapping her tongue around the finger sensually. Smugness oozed like silk through the nebulous pathway to Sir Integra's mind, liberally seasoned with the zest of accomplishment, a dash of spite, and on an even smaller level, a spark of pleasure. The Iron Maiden had accomplished something not even Alucard had – Alucard, Seras' Master, who arguably had the most power over the girl with the Sire/Childe bond – **she** got the Police Girl to drink the blood.

"Good. Just be careful not to bite, Seras." Integra murmured, her voice breaking the trance Seras found herself lost in, anchoring the younger blonde to the here and now. As the now healed finger was pulled away she bit back a moan of protest, craving more of that sweetness.

"There, a few drops of pure virgin blood. Do you feel any better?"

When she asked that, a queasy feeling returned to the fledgling's stomach as she recalled the half felt emotions from the sips of Integra's life – while she was … grateful in a way (she felt a bit stronger already), she also felt used, like a toy caught between two jealous children, and it unnerved her – and she flushed again as she realized how wanton she acted, running her wet tongue along the slickness of Integra's flesh, tasting hand lotion, a papery tang of the woman's cigar, and blood, _oh the blood_. "Uh … yes. Thank you." Seras mumbled, a new shiver working its way down her spine.

"Good. Now gear up and be ready for deployment. We've lost contact with the aircraft carrier, Eagle. We're assuming it's Millenium."

And just like that, the world slipped back into place. She was just a soldier following orders. "Sir!" She stood from the chair, a relieved look on her face that turned to a laugh, "Yes, right!"

Everything was normal again, nothing had changed, but that'd she'd had a bit, _just a bit_, of blood to keep up her strength for the battle ahead.


End file.
